Lawry's Akasaka – Identity Confusion

Walking into Lawry’s felt a little shameful. As an American, I hesitated to indulge in this stateside staple while in one of the world’s most exciting food cities. But after a long workday adapting to local norms, the allure of comfort was irresistible. Unfortunately, comfort never came.

The experience begins with yellow flag—literally and metaphorically. A wrinkled piece of paper informs diners about the seasonal PJ champagne, offered by glass or bottle. During my two-hour visit, not a single soul touched it. A corporate upsell, awkwardly out of place in a venue striving for upscale credibility.

Lawry's aims to replicate the San Francisco House of Prime Rib's legacy, draped in fancy service and grand decor. Yet, the execution was a letdown. The spinning salad, a signature flourish, arrived limp and lifeless. The dressing was whisper-thin, and their famed seasoned pepper became a crutch rather than an enhancement. In a country that perfects the art of crisp, fresh greens in your local Family Mart—this was baffling.

The mac and cheese fared no better. Served lava-hot, the pasta was obliterated into mush, the truffled béchamel a weak attempt to mask a lack of actual cheese flavor. It was as if the dish existed solely to showcase their branded seasoned salts, which it required.

Then came the salmon. A little too dry, cooked a little too tough, a little too salty, and an inediblly thick-skin that comes when you do all three, it felt like a reheated banquet hall entree. A huge cross-section of overcooked fish steak that no fish-ordering, much less Japanese, customer would ever need. In Japan, where fish is practically a national art form, this offering was an affront.

The service was attentive, and the decor undeniably elegant. But beneath the surface, Lawry’s seemed trapped—unsure just how much it had to obey its corporate American roots to avoid alienating guests to the local US embassy, but also stay sufficiently competitive for a discerning Japanese customer with plenty of other options. Either way would have been fine - but neither was the path they chose.

For a restaurant in one of the world’s most competitive dining scenes, Lawry’s in Tokyo felt hollow. It’s a steakhouse caught between its corporate mandates to hawk high-margin champagne and grocery-store seasoning blends, and its obligation to deliver the dining experience its location demands.

A disappointing meal, but an enlightening look at what happens when identity is lost in translation.